


The Countdown

by Val_Creative



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything goes wrong in a matter of <i>seconds</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Countdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurora_dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_dawn/gifts).



> CONFESSION: I LIVE FOR ANGST AND PAIN. I ended up sharing an idea I had with my lovely dedicated friend, and then also encouraged by [Hannah](http://smugglerandfarmboy.tumblr.com/), The idea mostly follows that... since I heard Han Solo say **[this thing](http://nooowestayandgetcaught.tumblr.com/post/142855099462)** , I now have a fearful suspicion about CIRCUMSTANCES. IN THE FUTURE. But if you click the link to my gifset, it'll explain. Even though this is sad, I hope you enjoy reading! :) Or if you are devastated, feel free to throw tomatoes and rotten fruit @ me in the comments section! Ahaha.
> 
> This covers my bingo space " **[risky journey](http://jediprompts.tumblr.com/post/137297084295/han-luke-prompt-bingo-card-follow-for-more-star)** " for Jediprompts on Tumblr! Here is the **[current bingo card](https://40.media.tumblr.com/57e8690c164fbac5f5ddb65448eb8eaf/tumblr_o5qvs850971qh1cr6o1_540.png)** for me - I'm keeping track!

*

Everything goes wrong in a matter of _seconds_.

The Imperial loyalist is quickly apprehended and pressed to the ground, held in place for the binders. The high-powered blaster left abandoned, its muzzle faintly smoking. Luke's chest visibly smokes as well, the fabric of his Jedi tunic scalding-hot.

Han remembers the zigzagging life-readings, glowing sunset-red above Luke's med unit. They heave and load his unconscious body onto it, yelling and steering clear of the frightening, gawking bystanders. He remembers numbness.

There's no anger, no disbelief or sorrow. Luke's heart stutters and then ceases beating, flatlining the readings.

At the same moment, the chrono starts ticking in the back of Han's skull; a metrical, hollow unwinding.

He begins counting in silence.

_Nine._

Han's fingertips are cool, despite the blistering and humid temperature of the planet. Tatooine has the foulest odor, surrounding him immediately in Han's distorting perception, like sand and shit and fresh, hot blood.

_Thirty-four._

It's not enough to stabilize him or to wait, but to jumpstart Luke's heart. The robotic arms inject him with stims, with things that will convulse and awaken Luke's muscles, with surging jolts of electric waves directly on his chest.

Wedge curses no one in particular through his snarling lips. He then curses some deity, pounding a fist to his thigh.

Han's eyes sting painfully, too-dry.

_Four hundred, fifty seven._

*

Luke's flesh grows bone-cold, one of his hands wrapped loosely in Han's grasp.

_One thousand, two hundred._

*

It doesn't feel like mourning. It feels more like drifting away into nothingness, untethered to reality.

A grim-faced Leia arranges the private ceremony on Chandrila, remembering her twin brother speaking the details of a Jedi's funeral. As his father before him, Luke receives the same honour — engulfed in blackening smoke and the flames.

_Six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred._

She cries in an empty corridor, hiccuping and gasping, Leia's face burning an ugly, flushed red.

_Eight hundred and seven thousand, three hundred, fifty-seven._

*

Han vanishes, ordering Chewbacca to remain with Leia and the Rebel Alliance. There's no welcoming arms on Corellia, but plenty of beer and lonely, dark rooms. Anger, disbelief and sorrow — crashes into Han's gut, making it difficult to breathe.

Tears streak down Han's cheeks, as he grips a dirtied, old poncho tightly to himself.

_Ninety-four million, five hundred and ninety-three thousand, seven hundred, sixty-five._

*

Finally, the chrono stutters and then ceases its ticking.

Han awakens from his heavy, laborious daze, blinking several times. Artificial, white light floods from the cockpit of the Falcon, as his copilot yawns open-mouthed and kicks up his feet, arms folding comfortably behind his neck.

"Wasn't expecting you for a while," Luke murmurs, eyes lidding, smiling boyishly handsome. He laughs, clear and bright, not protesting or offended when Han reaches over. He knocks Luke's legs off the console.

"If I find anything wrong with her… I'm taking it out of your rear, kid," Han drawls, gesturing with his forefinger.

Luke tilts his head at him, unfolding his arms, meeting gazes. His eyes _clear_ and blue, _alive_. He tastes _warm_ and savory-sweet on Han's mouth, and Luke kisses him like it's never gonna happen again.

Maybe it won't.

Maybe it _will_.

The seconds melt away, with Luke's half-smile pressed up against Han's jaw, little puffs of air caressing his skin.

*

 


End file.
